Monsieur Choisnel, the procureur-du-roi, and two ladies went into the boudoir for a game at backgammon.

The glass lustres were lighted; and then the flower of Mademoiselle Cormon's company gathered before the fireplace, on sofas, and around the tables, and each couple said to her as they arrived,-- "So you are going to-morrow to Prebaudet ?" "Yes, I really must," she replied.
On this occasion the mistress of the house appeared preoccupied.

Madame Granson was the first to perceive the quite unnatural state of the old maid's mind,--Mademoiselle Cormon was thinking! "What are you thinking of, cousin ?" she said at last, finding her seated in the boudoir.
"I am thinking," she replied, "of that poor girl.

As the president of the Maternity Society, I will give you fifty francs for her." "Fifty francs!" cried Madame Granson.

"But you have never given as much as that." "But, my dear cousin, it is so natural to have children." That immoral speech coming from the heart of the old maid staggered the treasurer of the Maternity Society.